


before the end

by phybe



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, M/M, Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), before the final fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22422274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phybe/pseuds/phybe
Summary: “Tomorrow,” he says, “I will go to Hyrule Castle.”Oh, how Sidon wants to deny him. How he wants to ask him to stay, beg for another day, another night, another letter. Is this how Mipha felt, as she watched her love go to his fated fight against death? Did she feel the need to keep him close, to run away somewhere where the Calamity would not reach them?“Is there anything I can do?” is what Sidon asks instead, because he is a prince and heir to his people’s crown, and even in love he cannot allow himself to be selfish.
Relationships: Link/Prince Sidon
Comments: 19
Kudos: 322





	before the end

Sidon can rarely sleep on nights like these, when the moon is full and glistening over his sister’s statue like a troubled ghost. It’s worse lately. There’s a lot he wishes he could tell her, questions and farewells and apologies. 

Apologies, mostly. 

He still tries to sleep — a prince is no good to his people exhausted. Allows himself an hour of searching for truth in Mipha’s stone polished eyes, then goes back to his quarters and rustles in his pool. When insomnia gets too stubborn, he lets himself read over letters, write some in return. That night, it doesn’t get to that. 

There’s a tap-tap on his window. Subtle. Sidon wouldn’t hear it if not for the perfect quiet of the night, but sure enough, there’s a boy perched there, head cocked in a smile. He doesn’t have to ask to be let in before Sidon’s jumped out of the water and rushed to him, opens the window so swiftly that the boy almost falls — almost, but doesn’t, because the hero of Hyrule is nothing if not perfectly balanced. 

“Link!” Sidon exclaims, joyful and incredulous as he takes his friend in his arms, forgetting all the rules of etiquette that befall someone of his rank. But then, princes aren’t supposed to receive unannounced visitors in the middle of the night, and Link answers his embrace by hugging him just as tight. 

“Hey,” he says, voice breathy and quiet, but, it seems, less coarse than in his memories. “Missed you.” 

It seems like a hundred years have passed since the last time they saw each other, though Sidon knows it was only twelve moons ago. (Not that he’s counted them. He just looks at the moon a lot, is all.) Link’s voice isn’t the only part of him that’s changed. He was strong when Sidon met him, but he’s clearly stronger now — both in the firm shapes of his muscles and in a less literal way, a weary aura of power about him. He is also taller, broader, though still so small that his arms wrapped around Sidon’s neck leave his feet dangling above the ground. 

Sidon puts him down, tries not to stare too longingly at the blue eyes, the golden hair, the beautiful face and the new scars that mark it.

“I missed you too, my wonderful friend,” he says, bringing them to a couch where the height difference won’t hurt Link’s neck too much. “What brings you to the domain? Have you been given a room yet? I’ll make sure you get the inn’s best Hylian bed, and — are you hungry? I could wake the cook, he’d fix you some…”

Sidon’s voice dies out when Link puts a hand on his, shaking his head. “Can’t stay long,” he whispers. 

Oh. Of course. It was the same the last time they saw each other, when they freed Vah’Ruta together — Link can never stay long with a world to save. It’s a wonder he was able to come here at all. The journey he walks hardly comes with chances for delays and detours.

“I wanted to see you,” Link goes on, quiet, and it’s pathetic how tightly Sidon’s heart clenches in response. “Give you this.” 

At that, he takes a paper envelope from his satchel and puts it in Sidon’s palm. Sidon knows well the paper’s weight and the smell of the ink, knows every bit of these letters, by now — he has six others much like it preciously kept in a desk drawer. The first time he received one, his heart was full enough to burst, and the ones that came after had no lesser effect.

Unlike Sidon whose letters always verge on little novels — but Link has said he likes it, so Sidon hasn’t stopped — Link is not a man of many words. A hundred years of sleep has left his handwriting as rugged as his voice, but his hands have picked up another gift instead: sketching. Link keeps a diary of drawn animals, monsters, gems, plants — anything that might be useful on his adventure — and with every new entry his talent blooms. Sidon has seen his work, admired it long and loud enough to make Link’s ears blush, but nothing compares to the drawings Link does just for him. The ones he sends with his letters. 

Usually, they’re landscapes. Once, a mythical dragon of fire and light. Places and creatures Link has seen on his way to save the world, that Sidon has never seen, maybe never will. But when he looks at the images, it almost feels like being by his side again, travelling together like they did when Sidon took him to the Domain. It makes him miss Link a little less. It’s almost enough. 

“Were all the riders so busy that you had to carry the letter yourself?” Sidon asks, trying to joke about it, to be light-hearted, though he knows the reason Link came here cannot be a joking matter. There is a gravity in his eyes, a pause. The letter aches in his palm. 

Link closes Sidon’s fingers on the paper. He is quiet for a long time, in this way of his. Sidon used to fill the silence with anxious speeches, but he now knows to give Link the space he needs to form words.

“Vah’Naboris is free,” is what he eventually whispers. 

This should be cause for celebrations. Sidon has written epic poems’ worth of praise for each of Link’s victories against Ganon’s influence, but he cannot find it in him to praise right now. Vah’Ruta. Vah’Rudania. Vah’Medo. Vah’Naboris. With this last one, the four beast are freed, ready for the fight. 

The fight. 

“And the shrines…?” Sidon asks, hoping against hope. 

Link only nods. No wonder he looks so strong — all those tests he has endured, all those prayers, and the goddess’s rewards in return. He’s done all that was asked from him, except one. The last trial. 

“Tomorrow,” he says, “I will go to Hyrule Castle.” 

Oh, how Sidon wants to deny him. How he wants to ask him to stay, beg for another day, another night, another letter. Is this how Mipha felt, as she watched her love go to his fated fight against death? Did she feel the need to keep him close, to run away somewhere where the Calamity would not reach them?

“Is there anything I can do?” is what Sidon asks instead, because he is a prince and heir to his people’s crown, and even in love he cannot allow himself to be selfish. 

Surprisingly, Link nods. “If I don’t return,” he says softly, gently, as if this isn’t the thunder before Sidon’s worst fear hits the ground, “Could you free Epona for me? I brought her by Toto Lake. I don’t want her to wait too long.” 

There’s a pain in his ribcage, it burns through every soft part of his flesh right down to the core of his bones. “You will return,” he utters, the only words he can say without breaking. “Promise me, my friend, my dearest — promise me you’ll return.” 

Blue eyes look up at him, sad as the river his sister died in. Soft fingers taught to draw swords rather than sketches go up to Sidon’s cheek, caress him lightly, barely there. Already spectral. Sidon grabs the wrist, begging it to stay, to linger. Link cups his face, but even that lovely touch feels too much like farewell. 

“I promise you,” Link says, “that this time, if I die, I will take him with me.” 

And Sidon knows there is nothing more he can ask of him — he knew it from the moment he learnt that the sweet, fierce Hylian he’d picked up on the road was none other than the hero chosen by the sword. He knew that it would end like this, somehow. His sister died for this. The world has died for this, princess Zelda fought a hundred years for this, brought Link back from death, all for this final fight against the dark, all for this end. 

He knows, and even so, he would tear a hundred castles down to stop fate from unfolding. 

There are tears on his cheek, now. Links’ fingers catch them as they fall, one drop at a time. 

“I wish you could stay,” Sidon says, as far as he is willing to confess.

“Me too,” Link murmurs, forehead pressing against his. His fingers find their way to Sidon’s neck, thumbs tracing soothing curves, and Sidon grabs his hips in return, pulling him in his lap in a way he would not dare if he wasn’t so heartbroken. Link’s voice trembles a little when he goes on, “There’s… so much I want to tell you, but I’m scared it will make it hurt more, if I…” This time, he does not finish the sentence. 

“Tell me anyway,” Sidon prays, and does not say, _nothing could make this hurt more._

For long minutes, Link stays quiet, which isn’t unusual, if not for the heaviness of it, tonight. At last, his mouth parts. Whatever words and speeches and goodbyes Sidon had expected, he says none of it, and instead drops on his lips a featherlight kiss. 

Sidon stares. For once, stunned silent. Golden eyes meet blue, and he sees the uncertainty there, the profoundly unfounded doubt that the touch may have been unwanted. No. The future is full of uncertainty and fear, but if there is one thing Link can be sure of, it is that whatever he feels for him, Sidon feels also, and more, and more again. He’s already stained pages from diaries about it, written bad poetry and letters he never sent, words and words and words of the love he holds in him and of what it might become. 

Sidon kisses him back, and tells him all of that. 

He’s soon breathless from it, the precious softness of him, of his skin, of his flush. He would think he’s dreaming — Hylia knows he’s dreamt of this — but there are so many senses he forgot to imagine. Little nails digging into his neck. Stray blond hair tickling his skin. Noses brushing against each other, a little clumsy, and so, so lovely.

May the goddess forgive him — he was wrong. This does hurt more. 

It is a show of the hardened strength he’s built over the past century that when Link pulls apart, Sidon does not beg him to stay. 

In his ear, the boy hero whispers, “Open the letter after I’m gone.” 

Sidon nods. He doesn’t trust his voice to speak, but he should, if this is to be the last time. He forces a smile on his lip, and manages, “Good luck, Link! I believe in you!” 

Startled fondness crosses over Link’s face, until he steels it into a smile of his own. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he says, and kisses the back of Sidon’s hand. “I count the days until we next can meet.” 

The words quote from Sidon’s first letter, and it’s almost enough to make him sob. He holds it in, though, ignores the prickle of new tears. Smiles a little harder, a little tighter. He hugs Link one last time.

And then, the boy he loves is gone. 

Later, Sidon will jump in his pool and do his best to pass out until the next few days are over, until fate gives him the dreaded answer. He’ll anguish and pray and beg and bargain and ignore all the insistent knocks on his door. He’ll climb to the top of the domain to watch the castle’s demons at work. But before that, he has a letter in his hand, maybe the last of Link’s letter he’ll ever hold. Perhaps he should save it, but he can’t. He goes to his desk, and opens it.

A sketch falls from the envelope, beautiful, practiced. Link took a lot of care to draw it, to get all the details right, and Sidon’s work to keep himself from crying is undone all at once. It’s the bridge where they first met, where Sidon jumped from water to ask a stranger for his aid — and where Link said yes, without even thinking about it. It’s beautiful, an exact rendition. Link must have returned on his way here, taken hours out of his way to draw this for Sidon, a way to remember him by.

_How unfair,_ Sidon thinks. How deeply, deeply unjust is the world. He curses at whatever deity decided to let him have a piece of Link, enough to have his love, his attention — but not enough to keep him safe. 

Next to the drawing is only a small note, in the clumsy writing of a farmer’s boy who barely learnt to write too many moons ago. 

_“Thank you, Sidon.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I thought of this at 2am after finishing the game and had to make others suffer with me. Sorry. I love them so... If it helps, I imagine Link did win and came back for Sidon soon afterwards. ♥
> 
> Tumblr: @jmlascar
> 
> (I like to think of Link making an encyclopaedia of plants, monsters and whatnot — I love the Sheika tablet in game, but it doesn't really fit the aesthetic, imo. Hence where that idea about sketching came from.)


End file.
